


Jump My Bones

by gagewhitney



Category: The Killing
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-15
Updated: 2012-05-15
Packaged: 2017-11-05 11:07:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/405717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gagewhitney/pseuds/gagewhitney
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-2x08. The thing is, though, that making good decisions when it comes to her personal life has never really been Sarah Linden's strong suit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jump My Bones

**Author's Note:**

> First fic for The Killing. Hope I have their voices down all right and that this doesn't suck.

It's not a great idea, fucking him. Way back in the part of her mind that still cares, she knows that, and she knows there are plenty of reasons why it's not such a great idea, too.

Like the fact that they're partners (sort of, at the moment). They're friends (hell, he's her only friend these days, and when exactly did that happen?). Her son adores him (probably more than Jack likes her at times).

He's injured. She's scarred.

The thing is, though, that making good decisions when it comes to her personal life has never really been Sarah Linden's strong suit.

 

 

She checks them into a cheap motel just outside of town – because who only knows what's going on in Holder's apartment – and grabs his wrist the second the door clicks shut. He's so tall that it hurts her neck to look up at him, but she doesn't dare break the gaze suddenly trapping them both.

"Linden."

"Yeah?"

"What's up? You gonna jump my bones tonight?"

He says it jokingly, like he does most everything else, and she thinks he probably expects her to roll her eyes and tell him to make sure he stays in his own bed, damn it.

But really, despite all the reasons why she shouldn't, jumping his bones is exactly what she wants to do tonight. It's what she's wanted to do since she knew he'd be okay, since he held her in the airport while she cried over her son – hell, she'd kind of wanted to jump him when he'd cooked her and Jack pepper jelly eggs the other morning.

He's her partner, and her friend, and her son adores him, and sometimes, like when she's just so damn glad to see him walking around and her heart is breaking into a million pieces, it's hard for her to remember why those things are supposed to be negatives and not positives.

So what she actually does is shed her coat, and push his off his shoulders, and walk forward, bumping her toes against his until his back hits the wall.

"For serious?" he asks, looking down at her, his eyes searching her face.

"Yeah."

"Sure?"

"Yeah."

"All right," he says. "But yo, be gentle, Linden. I'm delicate right now."

"Shut up, Holder," she says, and pulls on the sides of his jacket until his mouth crashes into hers.

He's a bit out of practice, that much she can tell, but his lips are soft and pliant and pressing hard against hers, and he groans low in his throat when she pushes her tongue past his teeth.

He sucks on her lower lip, bites down gently, and reaches up to pull her long red hair from its ponytail, twisting the strands around his fist as he tilts her head up to give him better access.

She pulls him closer, trying to wind her arms around his neck. Holder puts his hands on her hips and turns them so she's got the wall at her back and his knee between her legs. He tries to rut up against her and gasps in pain.

"Ah, fuck," he hisses, grabbing his ribs.

"Sorry," she says with a grimace. She touches the area below his ribcage gently. "You all right?"

He winces, but nods. "Yeah, yeah. Just gotta be careful with it."

"Come on." She loops her fingers through his belt loops and urges him gently to walk backwards. "I'll make it easier for you."

Linden leads him over to the edge of the bed and gets him to lie down, his back propped up against the pillows. She gets on the bed with him, straddling his hips. Immediately, he puts his hands on her legs, rubbing up and down the denim.

She undresses him slowly, trying not to hurt him, pushing his hoodie up and over his head, followed by his tight black wifebeater. She runs her fingers gently over his bruises and bandages, puts her lips to an ugly purple mark on his shoulder.

"No fair, Linden," he says, his voice breathy and almost pained. "How many sweaters you got on there, girl?"

She laughs lightly, and leans back on his lap to pull her thick, woolen sweater over her head. "Better?"

"No," he says, tugging at the cotton shirt she'd been wearing underneath.

Smirking, she reaches for the hem and removes her t-shirt and tank top at the same time, leaving her in only a white cotton bra. She looks at him, and he raises an eyebrow, so she rolls her eyes and reaches back to remove the undergarment, too.

"Damn," he says quietly. He blows out a breath as he stares at her chest, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. "You're pale as shit, Linden."

She snorts. "Shut up, Holder."

Carefully, she pulls herself in closer, letting their bare chests touch as much as they can, and kisses him deeply. The bandages feel strange and scratchy against her skin.

Her fingers go to work on his belt, loosening the buckle, and she can feel him through their jeans, hard and pressing against her. Before she finishes with him, she jumps off quickly and sheds her own jeans. After a moment of hesitation, her underwear joins them on the ground.

His eyes roam up and down her body as she climbs back onto him. "Damn, girl. All that running did you good."

She smiles and gestures at him. "And yet you can eat pork rinds all day and still be thin as a rail."

"It's a gift, yo." He shrugs. "What can I say?"

She smiles at him, then focuses her attention back on getting him undressed. She unzips his jeans and, with a few good yanks, pulls both his pants and boxer shorts down to bunch around his knees.

She grips the base of his cock with one hand, runs the other up and down his length. He shudders, curses, and she likes the sound of it, so she does it again.

"Hey, Linden, you want this or not?" He's got his eyes squeezed shut. "You gotta stop that shit if you do."

With a small nod, she moves to position herself, and stops. "You have anything?"

"My wallet. Back pocket."

The wallet's attached to his jeans with a chain (of course it is), and she yanks until it finally appears. She plucks the condom out with two fingers and tosses the rest of it aside, then tears open the package and rolls the latex over him.

She raises herself up and hovers. "You ready?" she asks.

"Yeah," he nods. "Let's do this."

Guiding him with one hand, she sinks down, taking him in with one stroke. He swears under his breath and shuts his eyes. His fingers grip her hips so hard she thinks they're probably already black and blue.

"We good?"

"Hells yeah," he grunts. "Move."

Not wanting to hurt him, she leans back a bit, resting her hands on his thighs, and starts to ride him slowly. Holder's hands travel from her hips up her stomach to knead at her breasts. He bucks up into her, meeting her thrusts as best he can, and she starts to rock a little faster.

She can tell he's not going to last long, that he's close already, so she weaves her fingers through his and guides one of his hands down to press his thumb against her clit. He rubs her slowly, circling, and she cries out and moves her hips faster.

His thrusts become erratic before long, and he squeezes her breast hard when he comes. He takes shallow, gasping breaths, trying to calm down without hurting himself, until he seems to realize that she's still there, still moving against him. He kisses her and presses his thumb to her again, keeps rubbing little circles, and she comes with a ragged sigh against his lips, her muscles clenching around him.

After a minute, she disentangles herself from him, climbing down off the bed. She takes the condom off him and walks into the bathroom to toss it, then goes back to the bed, turning down the covers.

"Thanks," he says, gesturing toward the bathroom. He rises slowly from the bed, flips down the covers, and slides in between the sheets.

There's a moment of clarity and disgust when she comments, "We should've done this before. Who knows what's on that comforter?"

"Guess we're part of the problem now, Linden," he says with a cheeky grin.

They lie side by side, their hands brushing under the blankets, until he shifts closer and snakes an arm around her shoulders.

"I was supposed to get married today," she tells him, and she's not sure where the thought came from.

"Yeah, and I was celibate two weeks ago," he shrugs. He leans down and presses a wet kiss to her shoulder. "Things change, Linden."

"So it seems."

He pinches her arm, and she looks up at him, a question on her face. He shrugs, and smiles. "This ain't gonna be a thing, is it?" He bumps his hands together. "Like wham, bam, thank you ma'am? I hope you're gonna respect my virtue, at least."

She tries to fight the grin stretching across her face. "Shut up, Holder."

 

 

She wakes up to a bony finger poking her in her side.

"Yo, Linden!" Holder pokes her again. "Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey, girl. For real."

She opens her eyes and sees him hovering over her, fully dressed, waving a McDonald's bag and a cup of coffee at her.

"You didn't have to do that," she says, sitting up in the bed. She takes the coffee cup from him and sips carefully at the blissfully hot liquid.

He takes a seat on the bed next to her and opens the bag, pulling out a few bacon, egg and cheese sandwiches. "Ain't exactly got room service up in this fleabag," he says, handing her one. "We need the brain food this morning. Today we gotta find Rosie's key without you actually being a cop no more."

He chews on his sandwich and starts to outline what he sees as their plan for the day, and Linden thinks that maybe she's made a lot worse decisions in her life.


End file.
